


The Evolvement of Jesse McCree

by animehead



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gen, M/M, Slow Burn, other possible pairings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:12:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9407093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animehead/pseuds/animehead
Summary: Jesse McCree has big plans to open a diner, but an attack by a vicious animal leaves him injured, and forces him to pick up where he left off. But Jesse quickly discovers that learning to recover and get on with his life is the least of his problems.





	

Although the key fits, it takes a bit of elbow grease to get the door open. Jesse McCree shifts his stance, leans forward, and shoves his shoulder against the door. He does this twice. The first time with a curse, the second with a grin as it finally gives way and swings open.

He takes a step inside the building, coughing slightly as he inhales several years’ worth of settled dust.

“Christ,” Gabriel Reyes says next to him, thumb and index finger pinching his own nostrils shut. “What the hell is that smell?”

“Yeah,” Jesse chuckles, rubbing absently at the back of his neck. “Ripe, ain’t it? Got a bit of a kick to it.”

The two of them step further inside the building, fanning at the air, and looking over the place. It was a popular diner at one time, Kept up with the hustle and bustle of the years before him. Built in the 50s, but with an 80s feel to it. If he closes his eyes, Jesse can imagine the diner full of people. Good food, good conversation. Friends and family. All it needed was a bit of organizing, a shitload of cleaning, and it’d be as good as new.

“You sure you want to do this, kid?”

“Relax, pop,” Jesse says. He reaches over to pat his father on the shoulder. Gabriel wasn’t his actual father, but he’d taken care of Jesse as if he were his own. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Gabriel’s signature on that co-signer line, Jesse wouldn’t even be standing in this rundown diner, planning for its grand opening, and his future.

“Running a business is a lot to take on. We could always just sell it.”

“Barely let the ink dry, and you’re already counting me out, huh?”

“It’s not that.” Gabriel walks over to one of the tables, and fiddles with a section of chipped laminate on its surface. “There’s something off about this place. Rubs me the wrong way.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Jesse replies. “Other than it being a shit hole right now. Couple weeks, I’ll get her all fixed up, and you’ll be singing a different tune.”

“You know, most twenty-five year olds would rather be out chasing tail than taking on the restaurant business.”

“Well, I ain’t most twenty-five year olds, am I?”

Gabriel snickers, scratching at the hair along his chin. “Yeah, you damn sure ain’t.” He looks around the diner, dark eyes narrowing at all the work that needs to be done to get the place in order. “Well, then. Where do we start?”

Jesse walks toward the bar, lifting up the part of the counter that will allow him access behind it. It pulls from its hinges, rusty screws sticking out of the lower portion of the countertop like long, stained teeth.

“Hell, I reckon’ anywhere.”

* * *

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Jesse thinks as he stares at the mountain of trash scattered around the diner’s dumpster. He thought he was doing a good deed by feeding a couple of stray dogs the rest of his lunch. But they clearly weren’t satisfied with his offerings and went digging around in the garbage, pulling trash bags out with their teeth, and leaving the mess strewed around the back of the restaurant.

“Damn, mutts,” he mutters, crouching down to pick up some of the mess. He supposes it could have been worse. The diner isn’t open yet, which means the dumpster is only filled with the garbage he and Gabriel have dragged out of the diner for the past six weeks. Picking up shards of broken wood, and the occasional Twinkie wrapper was better than having to pick up spoiled food.

It’s probably time for him to head home. The sun went down hours ago. But knowing that he was just a few short weeks away from the diner’s grand opening keeps him there after hours. He still has so much to do. The interior and exterior are mostly done, but there’s still the matter of hiring people. He doesn’t know the first thing about that, but it has to be done. Can’t run a restaurant all by himself.

A spring breeze blows past, cooling sweat slicked skin, and rustling the leaves of the many trees in the wood directly behind the diner. With a handful of shredded plastic, Jesse stands up, tilts his head back and stares upward. It’s a full moon tonight, big and beautiful, like a giant pearl smack dab in the middle of the sky. Clouds sail past, like puffs of cotton. The leaves rustle again, and that’s a bit peculiar.

There’s no breeze.

He tosses the plastic into the bin, and wipes his hands on the thighs of stained jeans. The rustling continues, leaves smacking against one another, pulling his attention away from the remainder of the mess he needs to pick up.

“You mutts get on outta’ here now,” Jesse calls into the woods. “Go on now, get.” He turns, facing the woods, trying to spot one of the dogs.

The rustling stops immediately, leaving an eerie silence behind. Jesse takes off his hat, and scratches at the skin above his right eyebrow. It’s difficult to be sure. Trees and moonlight have the habit of casting shadows, and tricking the eye. But he’s certain he sees one of the dogs next to one of the trees. He narrows his eyes, makes out its form crouched low, head bowed, sniffing at the tree’s trunk.

“Hey.” He slams his hand against the trash bin a few times, strong palm smacking against metal, the sound loud in the quietness of night. “I said scram. Stop sniffing around. I ain’t got nothin’ left for you.”

The dog raises its head, muzzle incredibly long and extended. Maybe it’s the moonlight. It _has_ to be the moonlight. Its eyes seem to glow, a startlingly bright yellow, pupils big and black, centered in the middle of its irises. It opens its mouth, teeth like sharpened porcelain, long and white. It lets out a low growl, deep and guttural. The most threatening, terrifying sound a dog could ever make.

And then it raises up on its hind legs.

And Jesse realizes, eyes wide, staring at the large hunch of a back, and the long hanging arms, that whatever that thing is standing next to the tree, it sure as hell isn’t a dog. It’s not. It just isn’t.

“Aw, hell… Fuck!”

Jesse bolts, boots pounding against the ground, legs carrying him as fast as he can go. He hears the animal racing after him. The thing that definitely is not a dog is closing in on him, moving at speeds no animal should be able to run. He reaches the diner’s back door, throws it open, and rushes inside. But it’s all futile. He’s not quick enough. The animal is right behind him, slams its strong, furry body into the center of his back, causing him to fall forward.

Jesse screams. Claws tear at his shirt, his back, and pierce his flesh. The animal is a weight upon him, sharp teeth digging into his shoulder, breaking skin, and drawing blood. He feels heat where he’s been bitten, so hot he can’t stand it. It paralyzes him, leaves him unable to move, only scream as the animal continues to attack him.

The pain is unbearable.

He doesn’t feel it when the creature forces him onto his injured back, and snatches away his left arm with his teeth, severing it completely from the bone. But he knows it’s happening, can only yell for help, and even that’s  in vain because there’s no one there to hear him. There’s nothing he can do but wait for his inevitable death. To silently apologize and ask for forgiveness from the people he’s hurt in his past. To apologize to Gabriel for not sticking around long enough to make him proud. If he’d known he was going to die tonight from being attacked by a beast in the diner he worked so hard for, maybe he would have done things differently.

“Hindsight,” he whispers, and follows with a depressed chuckle. So this is how it ends, scared and alone, unfeeling, and at someone, _something_ , else’s hand. Well, yeah. That sounds about right for him.

He closes his eyes, and waits for the creature to finish him off. He’s lost so much blood that his vision begins to blur. “At least I won’t see it coming,” he murmurs, the room spinning around him. He blinks at a space on the floor where there’s nothing but blood where his arm should be.

The animal howls, the sound so loud it rattles the new glass windows. _Not the windows_ , he thinks when it howls again. He hopes they don’t shatter. They cost so damn much. So much money for some fucking windows. He can no longer open his eyes. His body lies motionless on the floor, waiting for the creature to deliver the final blow.

“At least I won’t see it,” he says again.

And then… _darkness_.

* * *

He doesn’t come to all at once. Instead it’s in snapshots, Gabriel shouting his name, the blaring alarm of sirens, the hushed murmur of voices. He’s moving, the ground several feet below him. Then darkness. He comes to again. Latex glove covered hands, blood soaked bandages, and a clear, plastic tube resting gently across his face. Darkness. Bright lights now. White halls. People in scrubs rushing up and down the halls. A child crying. Maybe an adult? Someone asks him for his name. He can’t answer.

“Jesse,” he hears Gabriel shouting his name. Must be serious. Gabriel hardly ever calls him by his first name, unless he’s in trouble. Did he do something wrong?

“You can’t come in here, sir,” someone replies.

Gabriel’s shouting now. Arguing and throwing around curses. Jesse hears the word ‘security’ screamed, and the scuffle of a fight.

“Calm down, pop,” he whispers, wishing he could say it louder, but he doesn’t have the energy, or the strength. Darkness again.

* * *

Brown eyes flutter open. He’s awake. More importantly, he’s alive. Now it’s just the matter of figuring out where he is. A room. Dimly lit. The diner maybe? Nah, it’s not the diner. Too small. Doesn’t smell like fresh paint. Home? Nope. Doesn’t smell like vanilla candles stunted by the scent of stale cigars. A television. That’s nice. A bit small, though. Chair next to the bed. Looks leather, but it’s probably not. Big ole’ white erase board on the wall inquiring about rates of pain. Ah, well, that clears things up.

A hospital.

He sits up, winces, and lies back down. His back aches, stings. He reaches up to survey the damage, except there’s nothing where his hand should be. Or his arm for that matter. They’re both gone. Vanished. Zilch. Zip. Nada. Nothing.

He screams, his only other arm gripping at the bandages wrapped around his elbow. Someone runs into his room, holding him, tells him to calm down. She has a nice, soothing voice. Old woman with silver, whitish hair that reminds him of Christmas tree tinsel.

“Calm down. Calm down.” She puts an arm on his chest, pinning him down against the bed. “All right. Easy now. You’re okay.”

“My arm’s gone,” Jesse says, frantic and shock making his words break. “It’s gone.”

“But you’re alive,” she says. “You’re here. Breathing. Do you understand me?” She takes his free hand, careful of the IV needle he has taped into it, and presses it against his chest even through his panicked flailing. “Feel.”

“Nah, nah.” Jesse shakes his head. “This ain’t right. It ain’t right.”

“Life hardly is. But we make do. Now take some deep breaths. In and out.” She waits until Jesse follows her lead, breathing long and slow, chest rising and falling. “Very good. Perfect.”

“You a doctor?” he breathes out, hand tugging at the nasal cannula hooked over his ears.

“Nurse,” she answers. “Leave that alone.”

“What happened to me?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have the answer to that. But your father might.”

“My father?”

“Gabriel Reyes. He gave the doctor’s quite a fuss downstairs. Almost got himself kicked out.”

“He’s here?”

“He is. Sent him downstairs to get some coffee. Poor thing looks exhausted.”

“He alright?”

“Look at you,” she says, a soft chuckle escaping her lips, “wake up in a hospital bed, and the first thing you do is ask about someone else. He’s fine. You worry about healing.” She stands upright, groaning a bit as she stretches her arms above her head.

He watches her, takes notice of the navy blue scrubs and the several ID badges hanging from a lanyard. There’s a name tag above her right breast. The name ‘Ana’ printed in bold, black letters.

“Oh, before I forget. Here.” She reaches into her pant pocket, pulls out a card, and offers it to him.

He reaches for it, first with what’s left of his left arm, and then with his right. “Guess I gotta’ get used to that,” he says, taking the card and reading it over. It’s a business card for a psychiatrist, Fareeha Amari.

“Not much for talkin’ to shrinks.”

“I highly recommend that you reconsider,” Ana replies. “Give her a call when you’re discharged. You have a long road ahead of you, Jesse McCree.”

“Yeah, well,” he scratches at the thin layer of scruff along his cheeks and chin, “I guess you’re right about that, Ms. Ana.”

The door glides open, and Jesse feels relief wash over him the moment Gabriel pokes his shaved head through the door. “Hijo?”

“Hey, pop.”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Ana says, and leaves out of the same door Gabriel enters.

“How you feeling?” Gabriel asks, settling himself down into the chair next to Jesse’s bed.

“Like I got rundown by a John Deere,” Jesse answers. “What the hell happened to me?”

Gabriel shakes his head. “Don’t know. Was calling you all day. You didn’t pick up. Came to the diner to check on you, and found you half dead in the middle of the floor. You can’t remember what happened?”  

Jesse shakes his head. “I don’t know. I think maybe it was a dog, or something.”

“What the hell kind of dog did you piss off to deserve this?”

“I don’t know, pop.” He runs his fingers through his hair, and then lowers them to his forehead where he rubs at his temples. “I don’t know what I’m gonna’ do about the diner.”

“What you mean, you don’t know? You’re gonna’ heal, and then you’re going to get your ass back in there.”

“What if…” he pauses, thinking back to the attack. Everything’s a blur now, but he still remembers those glowing, yellow eyes, “whatever did this to me comes back?”

“We’ll figure out a way for you to protect yourself. That way if it does, you’ll be ready. But don’t worry about that for right now. You just think about getting better.”

“You’re being awful kind tonight.”

“What kind of dad would I be if I kicked my only son when he’s down?”

“Heh. Probably my old man,” Jesse says.

“Enough.” Gabriel leans forward, and plucks a can of strawberry jello off the portable tray next to Jesse’s bed. He peels the aluminum lid back, and stares down at the contents with a frown.

“Thought you didn’t like jello.”

“I don’t. But you do.” Grabbing a plastic spoon next to a can of cold ginger ale, he raises himself to his feet. “Now stop talking and open your big mouth.”  

“Aw, come on, pop. I don’t need you feedin’ me.”

“Shut up, and open it.”

Jesse groans, eyes closing as Gabriel pops a spoonful of jello into his mouth. “I’ll make sure to return the favor when you’re an old man,” he says between chews.

Gabriel snorts. “Dealing with you, I’m already an old man.”

“Thanks, pop. I’m glad you came looking for me.”

Gabriel offers him a small, tired smile. “Me too, kid. Me too.”

* * *

The air is cool and fresh, unlike the taxi they rode to the hospital in. Genji Shimada cradles his arm against his chest, dark eyes scanning the digital marquee board several hundred feet away from the front of the hospital.

“They are giving away free flu shots, brother. Should we get one?”

“Quiet, Genji,” Hanzo Shimada says, after paying the taxi driver with foreign currency that he’s still not quite used to. “Why must you always involve yourself? Raunchy American parties and wheelboards. Now green hair. Ridiculous.”

“ _Skateboards_ , brother,” Genji corrects him. “We are only here a short while. We should interact with the locals. They are friendly, and fun.”

“They are idiots. Greedy and loud. And selfish.” He huffs. “ _Americans_. What were you thinking? Look at yourself. You’ll be lucky if you haven’t broken your arm. We’ve been here for five days, and I already have to bring you to the hospital.”

“It’s probably just a sprain. Besides, I’ve received much worse from sparring with you. Or otherwise.”

Hanzo is quiet for a few moments as the two of them move closer to the hospital’s entrance. “I do not like America. I want to go back to Japan.”

“We are only here a few more days.”

Hanzo shakes his head, stepping to the side to allow Genji entrance through the glass, motion sensor doors. “You are so much trouble. What would father think?”

“I assume not much, considering he’s dead.”

“Enough, Genji.”

Genji quietly reads the signs, trying to figure out which direction the two of them must move. “It seems we took the wrong entrance. The emergency room is that way.” He uses his uninjured arm to point down a long hallway.

“Fine,” Hanzo replies with a sigh. “Let us go.”

* * *

Jesse surveys the room one last time. He’s only been there five days, but it seems so much longer. He’s still sore, still stressed, and still trying to figure out how he’s going to adjust to only having one arm. But he’s smiled a couple of times, so he’s on a slow track to getting back to his normal self.

Gabriel brought him some clothes to go home in. No more wandering around his room in a hospital gown with his hairy ass hanging out. He pats at his jean pocket, making sure the card Ana gave him is in there. He’s still not sure if he’ll actually see this Dr. Amari, but he supposes a check in or two couldn’t do much harm.

“You got everything?” Gabriel asks him, fingers buttoning up the flannel shirt Jesse’s wearing since he hasn’t quite gotten used to buttoning things with one hand.

“Reckon’ so,” Jesse answers.

“Got the number to the doctor?”

“Which one?”

“Prosthetics.”

“Yeah, got that one, too.” Eventually, he’ll see about getting a prosthetic arm. Something to make him feel a bit more comfortable in his own skin. For now, though, he’s just going to take it easy. One day at a time. Recuperate. He’s got to hurry up and heal. There’s a diner waiting for him with his name on it, and it sure as hell isn’t going to run itself.

“Discharge papers?”

“Got ‘em, pop. Got everything.”

“Then let’s roll out.”

They take the elevator to the first floor. Him riding in a wheelchair being pushed by Ana while Gabriel walks next to them. When they reach the gift shop, he begs Ana to let him walk the rest of the way. A man’s got to have a bit of pride and dignity after having all types of doctors and nurses poking and prodding at him, seeing his unmentionables. She’s probably not supposed to, but Ana concedes, and lets him go about his way without the use of a wheelchair.

“You take care now, Jesse McCree,” she says with a smile. “And give Dr. Amari a call.”

“You can count on me, Ms. Ana,” Jesse replies.

“Look after yourselves.” She waves at Gabriel and Jesse who both wave back.

“Take care,” Gabriel replies.

They begin their journey past the gift shop, then past the emergency room entrance when someone walks right smack into Jesse.

“Oh, pardon me,” Jesse says, and gives a polite bow of his head.

The man who bumped into him says nothing. Long, dark hair tied at the ends with a silk, blue sash. A pattern decorates the fabric, trimmed in glittering gold thread in the design of dragon scales. He stares up at Jesse, intense and unspeaking, dark eyebrows narrowed. His gaze drifts from Jesse’s face to the empty sleeve hanging by his side, and Jesse nearly cringes from the unwanted attention.

There’s a tattoo on the man’s left arm. Jesse can’t quite make it out because it disappears beneath his shirt sleeve. He almost asks if he can see it, but thinks better of it.

“Brother,” Genji says, nudging his older brother with his elbow.

“My apologies,” the man finally says, crosses his arms, side steps and continues on his way, him and the green haired man walking side by side.

“Those two clearly ain’t from around here,” Gabriel says next to Jesse.

“Yeah,” Jesse agrees. “The one with the long hair seemed meaner than a pit bull with a cobra for a leash, didn’t he?”

“Sure as hell did,” Gabriel replies. “Probably don’t know any better.”

“Real pretty though,” Jesse murmurs.

Gabriel raises a brow and shakes his head. “Wanna’ go chase after him?”

“Nah, I’m good. I don’t think love is in the cards for me right now.”

“Who said anything about love?”

“Everything is about love, pop.”

“Everything, huh?”

Jesse grins. “Yessir, _everything_.”

“Whatever you say, kid. Now let’s get you home.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

After a brief mix up involving where Gabriel parked the car, they find the car and climb inside. Jesse stares out through the window, watching the scenery go by. Just a few days ago he had everything going for him. And he supposes that maybe he still does. Sure, he’s covered in wounds, and is missing and arm, but it could have been worse, right? He could be dead. Gone from the world, snatched away right in the prime of his life.

 _You ain’t seen nothing yet, Jesse McCree_ , he thinks, and the thought startles him. What if that thing eventually came back to finish the job? He’d need a weapon, something that would keep him safe. Something that would ensure he had a quiet, peaceful, protected life.

“Hey, pop.” They’re stopped at a red light.

Gabriel unwraps a peppermint and pops it into his mouth. “Hm,” he murmurs around the hard candy.

“What would you say to me getting a gun?”

“ _You_ want a gun?” He turns his head toward Jesse. “Thought you said having guns meant someone was overcompensating.”

“Yeah, well. The tune’s different once ya’ manage to survive being killed by something that clearly wants ya’ dead. Anyway, I just want something to keep things smooth. You know, to keep the peace. A peacekeeper.”

“Peacekeeper, huh?”

“That’s right. Peacekeeper.”

Alright then,” Gabriel replies. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Jesse taps his fingers against the arm rest, and closes his eyes. Yeah, a peacekeeper. That’s exactly what he needs.


End file.
